


Profit and Loss

by Oscurita



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: 80's/90's, Angst, Backstory, Crime, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, North Yankton, Past to Present, Romance, Some humour, explanations/justifications for canon, midwest era, pre-game, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oscurita/pseuds/Oscurita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look back over the years between 1989 and 2013 and some of the events that occurred to lead Michael to where he is when we find him in Rockford Hills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark and Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> So, the concept for this fic came to me very early one morning, and wouldn't leave until I wrote it out. It started out as quick three thousand word one shot, to explain one question I always had about a choice Michael made, but as I wrote it grew and grew. 
> 
> I've spent a lot of time researching the game canon since starting writing my other Michael story ([Million Dollar Man](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3962962) ) and this, I guess, is just my way of hopefully making a little sense out of the (sometimes incredibly contradictory) canon surrounding the character's backstories. I've tried to work with the game canon as much as possible to make a believable picture of Michael's past and hopefully it'll all ring true for you guys. 
> 
> Just a warning - it's written different tense to my other stuff, as I find it easier/quicker to write in this way and I needed this out of me haha! It's not directly linked to Million Dollar Man, but you'll see in later chapters that the stories will connect as things mentioned here that happened in Michael's past will be/are mentioned as part of Michael's backstory in MDM too.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! :o)

It's the beginning of February 1989 when they first meet. When the temperature is getting a little warmer each day but the snow shows no signs of beginning to thaw. The small Midwestern town he's used as a home-base for the past several months remains frozen stiff, like a winter scene trapped inside a snow globe. 

The meeting is set inside the only nightclub in town, a loud and tacky dive with a troubling attachment to the seventies. It's not the ideal meeting place, but it's safe and allows well enough for the anonymity they need. The kind of place where all the difference faces merge into one, and no one stays sober long enough to remember eyewitness details. 

He fades away into the half light of the shady corner-booth, hunkered down behind empty booze bottles and half dead glasses, in like a roach avoiding the kitchen light. Eyes watching the crowd, lingering on the pretty female staff who show off too much skin. Mind wondering if and when the regular nightly brawl will hit kick off. 

Lester shows up late, with her at his side. It's uncertain if the tardiness is his fault, but it's clear he's in a mood and doesn't take kindly to the chosen venue and all the noise and smoke of the club. His health has deteriorated in the short time they've known each other, and he's taken to using a cane more frequently and complaining often. 

Michael doesn't show it, but he worries about him, even though they're not really close. They haven't known each other for long enough to form a strong friendship but he's already fond of Lester. He's smart and bold despite his frailties. He knows the meds he takes turn him grumpy and that makes him difficult to get to know. The way he introduces his female companion seems abrasive, like he doesn't have time for the formalities, but she doesn't seem to mind. 

Michael thinks himself foolish for assuming Lester was talking about a man when he said he knew the right person to help with their next score. In the short time they'd been working together there had been a number of different faces alongside them for the ride, but they had never enlisted the help of a woman before. 

Michael internalizes his apprehension about it and locks his mouth to avoid commenting negatively. Silently assuring himself that Lester knows what he's doing. They can't afford to take any risks now the stakes are getting higher, and they all know it. 

Lester steps into the booth, shuffles all the way along the padded bench then she slips in on the end. Keeping close to the edge as if she's getting ready to bolt any second. They exchange a lingering glance, but before they can pass a solid word to one another, Trevor stumbles over to muscle in. 

Half cut on too many shots of whiskey; jittery and bordering on hyper from all the drugs he's been pumping into himself to survive the boredom of a harsh winter. Lester's instantly uncomfortable in his presence. Michael knows he made it clear he doesn't want Trevor on board; he's not comfortable trusting someone so volatile with something so risky. Yet Michael vouches for him time after time -promises he can control him- and they come to a compromise on using Trevor's piloting skills over his marksmanship. 

Michael knows that Trevor is itching to be the boots on the ground for a score, but there's a way to go before Lester trusts him enough to graduate to being behind a gun inside a bank, surrounded by panicked people. Instead, Trevor is only given the responsibility for air transport in and out of the target state, and he accepts. It's not what he wants, but he'll never let an opportunity to fly _and_ make money slip through his scarred hands. 

It's uncomfortably clear to everyone that Trevor makes Lester nervous and Michael watches his tech-whiz friend fidget in his seat, as the cloud of intoxication moves better into the booth. He keeps glancing angrily at Michael as Trevor settles in, as if silently signalling to him to cave and ask Trevor to leave, but before Michael can say a word to level the situation or to boost Lester's confidence, Trevor throws the attention onto the new face. 

He makes a tasteless wisecrack, something that warns about trusting a woman, but she doesn't seem remotely daunted by his attitude. Barely bats and eye in his direction. She just glances to Lester reassuringly; settles him with her eyes. Like she's telling him she's already poised to take action if he oversteps the line that Lester has drawn around himself. 

Michael knows he should be uneasy with a new face, especially one who doesn't seem to want to lock themselves in or get too familiar, but for some reason it doesn't bother him like it should. He knows from first hand mistakes that 'over-eager' is often just a ruse played by someone looking to bust him. So he's okay with her detachment, but he finds himself wishing she were more convivial or at least that it was brighter so he could see all of her properly.

Lester doesn't waste a moment and begins running over the score, his feathers visible ruffled by Trevor's presence and interference. The noisy surroundings seem to set him even more on edge, as he stumbles and stutters, trying to find the confidence to be bold in front of his new dangerous associates. Battling to control the volume of his voice against the raging music, as he fumbles to covertly pass around printouts of all manner of maps, blueprints and schematics. 

Michael feels for Lester, but can't help how his eyes keep drifting from him and the paperwork to her. Catching the disco lights intermittently cutting across her pretty face, as white streaks of light revealing that her eyes are blue. The colour distantly reminds him of the ocean he once saw while on a drugs run to Vice City. 

He notes that she's slim and even sitting down she looks tall, maybe as tall as most of the podium dancers are in their heels. Her long dark hair is scraped up into a braid, and a leather biker jacket prevents him from seeing what other appealing features are attached to her chest. There's something about the way she carries herself says she's stronger than anyone would expect.

There's no doubt in his mind that if he'd met her on the dance floor or at the bar, he'd be hitting on her. Pulling out all the stops to charm her into his bed. Something about the way she looks back at him -when she thinks he's not aware- says she'd fall for his slick moves in a heartbeat. 

Even though the wheels are already in motion to make the job happen, Lester is still trying to sell it. Reaffirming it's worth the risk, like he's still uncertain if it is himself. Michael feels like he should worry about it, but he knows despite Lester's impressive abilities and keen eye for a job, he easily gets anxious. He's still a little wet behind the ears with taking scores out in the real world, but hacking ATMs and rerouting wire transfers just isn't paying his bills anymore. 

Michael tries to pay attention to the information being passed about as it's important he knows every tiny detail, it's still only his second proper bank job. It's risky -they all know it- but the small time gigs they come across just aren't enough to last. The liquor stores and gas stations Michael and Trevor pull on the fly only keep their pockets lined for a week or two. The pawn shops, truck hijackings and warehouse robberies that Lester has recently begun passing down to them have been better paid and easy pickings, but they need something bigger to tide them over for a while. Something that doesn't require a fence to palm the goods off on, and something that'll keep them flush for longer than three weeks at a time. A big take will give them and opportunity to go to ground. Lay low for a good while and avoid the risks of frequent exposure. 

Michael knows his focus should be completely on the job -he life could depend on it- but the noveltyof having a woman on his crew is distracting. It's like she's already hooked into his mind and is tugging it every which way. 

His ears try to focus on Lester's voice, filtering out Trevor's snide remarks and complaints about the airfield Lester has chosen, but Michael's eyes keep glancing at her. Hoping to hold her gaze for a second longer than is polite, but she looks away too fast. She's staying distant, _professional_. Maybe she's a little nervous too? He can't say for sure, and she doesn't speak a word to express herself, as Lester explains the finest details of the score they'll take in less than two weeks. 

The only time she does speak is when the meeting is over. Michael invites her to stay for a drink, he's keen to get to know her better for reasons that aren't all about business, but she politely says "no thanks" with a voice that's got a slight husk to it. Telling him that she smokes a lot and probably shouts more often than her composed demeanour suggests. 

He feels his muscles tighten, his stomach sparks with a fire to insist she stays behind with him, but he holds back - lets her walk away. Somewhere inside he admires the fact that she doesn't want to mix business and pleasure, he tries to live by the same rules. 

Yet as the night goes on, no matter how many beautiful women shove their breasts in his face and beg for his attention, his mind goes back to her. He leaves the club late with a pretty waitress and she tells him what to call her but he can't hold it in his head. 

There's only one name that keeps a place in his mind, and it's _Jacqueline._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so you may have guessed my initial question was about why Michael named his boat "Jacqueline" - who she may have been to him and why he felt his boat was a way of mentally escaping his life in Los Santos. This was just my way of explaining it, because my writer's brain likes to have an explanation for everything haha! 
> 
> But anyways, shoo, get outta here! There's another chapter waiting! ;o)


	2. If Wishes Were Horses

There's a lot of prep work to do before they can take the score and with only five days before it all goes down, Trevor flies them all out. Landing in a small airfield a state and a half away from the bank they've marked for attack. 

The whole trip is a series of snide snipes at Lester and the girl, but they seem to find strength enough in each other to ignore the pilot. She just stares out of the window as if she's watching a whole movie play out in the clouds and Michael does his best to resist looking over his shoulder at her. 

They hole up in a dirt cheap -cash only- motel and put the final pieces of the plan together. Taking a few trips out to survey the small bank that's just sitting helplessly, waiting to be plundered. Checking and double checking everything is in place at the location and that their equipment and get away plan is all flawless. Making absolutely sure that nothing's changed to affect the score or their success in taking it. Tensions are high and risks are many but they all draw confidence from each other. 

Michael finds plenty of chances to be around her, and she talks with him a little here and there as they prep the getaway car and cargo plane. She doesn't give a lot about herself away, and it irritates him, but he doesn't have the drive to dig. It's not his style to take a mental interest in the women he's physically drawn to. He's not even sure why he cares to ask her questions about herself, or why he lets himself wonder about her so much. He doesn't pay the same mind to the frequent stream of women who pass through his life. 

He tells himself that he's just concerned for his own safety, that he needs to know she's on the level - _suss her out_ \- but he already knows it's more than that. There's something about her that's deeply appealing to him, but he can't quite put his finger on what it is. 

He discovers her full name is Jacqueline Johnson, but she goes by Jack whenever she sticks around somewhere long enough to get familiar. He finds out that she's only a year younger than him -just twenty-three- but it's clear that what she lacks in years, she makes up for in talent. He asks where she's from, and she just says 'all over', giving him the sense that she's the kind who finds a home in other people, rather than places. 

She proves that her skill set is solid, showing that she's clearly experienced, perhaps from years of hustling to survive on the streets. She's shrewd and brave, but in what little time they've spent around Trevor Michael's already seen his friend uncover a volatile side to her. One she controls with expert precision, but something that he worries could burn everything around them to the ground in the heat of the moment. 

His concerns are for nothing however, as when the day comes for it all to go down, she does her duties flawlessly. Michael realizes quickly just how grateful he is to have her running alongside him, someone who seems to know what she's doing almost better than he does. She's bold and keeps her composure on crowd control; never breaks a sweat as they speed away from the scene of the crime with the net closing in behind them. She doesn't even lose her cool when the plan changes last minute because of a problem at the airfield, and she has to scramble to find Michael a new route on the map so they can catch up to Trevor's plane as planned. 

In fact, the only time she shows any emotion is when the cargo jet levels out a thousand meters above ground and the radio confirms the cops have lost them. Then she breaks into a grin and seems to almost want to exchange a celebratory hug with Michael, but instead she sinks back into her chair and lets her eyes sparkle with a smile as she watches the clouds pass by the window. 

Michael can't quite believe they've made it out clean, and keeps checking the police scanners all the way, until they land safely out of state again. Then the three of them are quiet as they drive back to the motel where Lester is impatiently waiting for their return. 

It's as if no one dares speak a word of celebration until the man with his finger truly on the pulse confirms their success, but the second they enter Lester's room and see his beaming grin they know they're out clean and the relief is palpable. 

The room comes to life in a whirlwind of awkward hugs and cheers, as drinks get passed around, and all animosity Trevor felt for the young woman falls by the wayside. 

They laugh and joke into the night, and it seems that with the job in the books she's comes to life. With relief in the air the stoic character they'd become familiar with is shed, revealing a chatty and witty personality beneath, which only seems to enchant Michael even deeper than before. 

He finds an entertained smile making home on his lips as he experiences a side of her that he didn't realize the pretty, cool exterior contained. He feels her allure pulling him closer as they enjoy the victory party into the night. Trying to keep the noise down and prevent a rowdy spillage out of the room and into the desolate small town streets. 

It's barely a few hours after that first score together when their lips finally touch. Two weeks of frustration, stolen glances and sly touches come to an end with a desperate explosion of passion.

They're hopped up on adrenaline from the score they just took, whiskey burning in their guts and cocaine buzzing in their veins. As they stumble in through her motel door -locked up in one another- they both know it's nothing more than a way to burn off their excess energy. A device to soothe the electric charge in their veins that the adrenaline rush left behind, but for Michael it feels like something more. 

Her touch makes him lose himself, and for the first time since he was a kid he finds himself escaping reality. Feeling an eruption of colour in the greyness that had drained his soul. His brain shuts off and he truly forgets who he is, _what he is_ , all the shit he's done already in his young life. 

She's like a dream. Warm, and soft. Smells like summertime and feels like heaven around him, with her short sharp nails dragging down his back. Whimpering his name as he makes her cum over and over again into the night. 

He's so desperate for it to never end, he feels almost disappointed when he finds his last release and he collapses onto her in a heavy, sweaty mess. She doesn't move, she just gives a pleasured sigh and strokes his back as they regulate their breathing and find their way back to reality together. 

When he finally rolls of her, she sits up and lights and cigarette. Takes two puffs and hands it to him without a word, as she gets up off the bed and walks to the bathroom in the dark, naked. He watches her slender figure cut across the silvery moonlight that pours in through the motel nets, and in that moment he's content. 

He can't recall the last time he felt so truly satisfied inside and out. He guesses it was maybe five or six years ago during high school. The residual buzz from the score reminds him of winning a home game. The thrill from the sounds of the cheering crowd and the feeling that he'd accomplished something incredible; like if all ended there and then he wouldn't have any regrets. 

The success will become addictive, he knows it. As with more money in his pocket than he knows what to do with, he feels both free and secure at the same time. Both things that he's hungered for in his adult years. 

He knows his natural talent for robbing banks gives him a shot at a successful career that's as unlawful as it is lucrative, and having a pretty naked girl around him is the cherry on top of a perfect result. A girl who's dangerous, exciting, and most importantly of all - deeply into him. He couldn't ask for much more, things feel incredible and he's happy at last. 

Until she comes out of the bathroom. 

He's hoping another round, and a chance to get to know her better, but she's already got a t-shirt on. She comes in searching the floor for her jeans and something shoves at his shoulders, demanding he speak up and stop her. 

"You leaving?" he asks, in a tone that's almost laughing at how foolish the idea sounds, but inside he realizes it's no joke. He throws his legs off the bed and stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand, ready to step in and stop her walking away. 

"I'm not much of a cuddler." she tells him and quickly begins to pull on a pair of tight fitting jeans. 

Then Michael suddenly remembers he's in _her_ room. She's not just leaving to avoid staying the night with him, she's leaving for good. "You ain't gotta go." he tells her, as he scrambles to find his boxers. 

"Job's done." she reminds him and takes a perch on the edge of the bed to pull on her scruffy biker boots. "No sense in hangin' around." 

"I thought we coul-" she cuts him off, looking over her shoulder at him. 

" _What?_ Ride off into the sunset together like Bonnie and Clyde?" she scoffs. 

Michael's lips pull tight, angry. He feels the twinge of an old football injury in his neck, asking to be stretched out, but he resists it. " _No!_ " he throws back, a little too harshly. "I just thought, you might wanna stick around a while."

"Nah." she dismisses. "Not my style." 

Michael feels a chill wash over the warmth that had blossomed inside. He knows he's losing her, and he can't stand it. He should have guessed how it would end, bitter experience from his childhood told him that happiness would never last long in his world, and all good things came with a punishment. Every bubble he blew with contentment in life always got burst with sharp spike of disappointment. 

Until that moment he doesn't realize just how much he likes having her around. He doesn't even know why -they barely know one another- but there's something about he wants to cling to. Something she brings to his life that takes the edge off of the coldness that covers him. 

He stands by the window, as the sky starts to lighten outside. Watches silently as she gathers up her things, and there's an energy in the air that suggests she wants him to beg her to stay. Ask her to stick around so they can get to know each other better. Maybe take another score or two when the money runs out, but he won't plead with her - he's too proud to. 

"Jack?" he calls out to her finally, and she looks over to him across the moonlit motel room. It suddenly feels colder than it is. _Empty._ Void of the heat and passion that had just filled it for the past few hours. 

"What?" she asks, her tone seems irritated but there's something in her eyes that suggests she's desperate for him to level with her. Like she's hungry to be shown some kindness; just a few words to make her feel needed for more than her skill set, or her body. 

They look at each other for a moment, silence around them like a blanket of heavy snow. Muffling their thoughts and feelings. Making it so they don't know what to say to each other for the best, not without losing face and seeming weak. Neither of them want to part, but they don't know how to change direction and stay on course. 

Right from the start he'd been unsure if she liked him, her attitude was so often cold, but the way she seemed to quiver whenever a part of him had accidentally grazed against a part of her - said she felt something for him. She was just too detached to ever her emotions get the better of her. That's why he couldn't believe his luck when she kissed him on the walk back to their rooms, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so energized by the touch of another. 

He wants her to stay, he _needs_ her to stay. He feels like if she leaves he's going to fall from the clouds and crash back into that familiar dark mire that swallowed him years earlier, but he's too pig headed to put his heart on his sleeve. He knows it's crazy to feel something for someone he barely knows and he won't be that guy who goes completely ga-ga over a pretty piece of ass. 

He tells himself it's better if she goes. Having her around, helping with other scores would be a distraction now. A risk he couldn't afford to take. Having emotional attachments would only serve to hurt him further, and ruin the good that she'd done for him. 

"Take care of yourself, Jay-Jay." he gives her, trying not to see the light that dies in her eyes. 

"Yeah, you too." she returns, and in one fluid motion she's grabbed her dufflebag -stuffed full of money and clothes- and she's out the door - gone from his life. For good. _He's sure._

Until almost five hundred days later....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, that's it for now. I'd love to know what you make of this new endeavor. It's six parts long, which I'll put out two chapters at a time - if you want it, of course! :o) Thanks for reading!


	3. Baby Come Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I had intended to do double chapter updates each time with this fic, but this chapter is pretty huge and a lot happens so I figured it was better as a single update. 
> 
> I want send out a huge thank you to everyone who showed love and support for this new venture on the first couple of chapters. You guys are awesome. I hope you enjoy this next part even more than the first two! :o)

It's summer 1990, when Michael and Jacqueline cross paths again. For a change the ground and trees are a rich and luscious green, not the more familiar stark, barren white and the locals of the small mid-western town make the most of it. 

Kids play with water in the streets, where ice cream trucks battle for territory. Women wear short skirts and barely-there tops in a desperate bid to keep cool; hiding their eyes behind oversized sunglasses as they struggle between paid work and motherhood. While unemployed men sit around shirtless and hanging off their front porches; drinking beers and tossing the empty bottles onto the yards they can't be bothered to tend. 

The landlocked heat is unrelenting; the thick humidity makes Michael grouchy and he hates himself for it. Knowing through the deep winter he begged for the heat of the sun, but with it burning so harshly in the sky he feels himself regretting every complaint he ever made about the cold. 

The calendar has only just turned over into July, and he knows it'll only get worse before the crisp air returns with the falling leaves. He tells himself to hurry up and adapt to the seasonal changes; shake of the winter fur and embrace the summer, but it's easier said than done to find joy in roasting alive. However, the little things that summer promotes make him smile inside.

He knows he'll never tire of getting into a car and not having to spend forty-five minutes clearing the windshield of iced over snow and condensation, and it's nice to be soothed to sleep by the sound of an electric fan working flat out through the night. Rather than the sounds and chill of a blizzard coming down hard, or angry raised voices and distant gunfire from way out in the trailer park. 

Tensions are high in the dilapidated two-bed trailer he shares with Trevor, as the heat appears to make him even wilder than Michael has known before. He puts it down to his friend making up for lost time, seeing as how he'd spent the previous summer locked up in a prison cell, as reward for spectacularly fucking up his first big score. 

With no air-con inside the trailer it's as hard to stay inside as it is to sit out, and in the blazing heat of the day Michael can't recall if it's worse to be trapped in there during the summer, or in the bitterly freezing winters. 

His mind cycles continually between uncertain plans. Threats of moving down to Vice City - where there's more work and more even weather. Or proclaiming that he'll stick around and buy himself a better trailer of his own. A place to actually call home. Somewhere clean and functional. A place to get away from living in Trevor's pocket between scores, knowing life would be easier for them both if they had a little breathing space during their downtime. 

It's too much to tolerate Trevor's wildness twenty-four-seven/three-six-five, and Michael feels an ever increasing need to lay his head somewhere without bullet holes in the walls, but he never goes ahead with either plan. Life on the run and time spent in and out of prison has made it hard to put down real solid roots of his own, admits so much uncertainty. 

Sharing with Trevor ties him to nothing permanently, and he's comfortable with the freedom that provides. _At least he tells himself that he is._ Deep down he knows that holding onto some kind of dream in his head is what gets him through the day. There's too much risk for disappointment in trying to make his visions a reality. It's easier just to live in his head and let himself believe better days will find him. 

Life seems to have hit a plateau lately, and it's welcomed. There's no pressure or urgency baring down on him, as he's not hurting for money. Having been wise with the cash he's taken over the past months and picking up a regular but casual gig in town has made his cash flow is healthy for the first time in a long time.

He spends most evenings helping to run the local prostitution ring, which provides an income to top up what little he spends of his savings. Earl -the local pimp- is tied up with opening the town's first licensed strip club. With previous experience in the field -and a professional trust between them, built on the exchange of stolen goods- Michael had been a shoo-in for the managerial role as Earl's right-hand-man. 

He likes that it's an easy gig that earns him a lot of respect, even if he does have to answer to someone above him. He and Earl have a mutual respect and it's enough to keep him towing the line and doing his duties. He knows it's all a means to an end. 

Most of the girls make their own dates, through their temporary set-up in the back of a grungy twenty-four hour diner on the outskirts of town. Where they use the payphone to arrange outcalls, to avoid the either freezing or baking out on the streets. While some of the other women -who have grown accustomed to the weather- still display themselves out on shaded curbs and dark street corners. 

He just keeps track of who's where and when. Shows his face at the diner every so often, hangs out to chat with some of the shady local characters and eat a free meal or two, before heading off to ride around town. Patrolling the hot spots and collecting his and Earl's share of the girls earnings. Muscling in on any Johns who get out of line, and putting pressure on other up-and-coming pimps and sex workers to join Earl's collective local enterprise.

There's plenty of time to waste during the day; he keeps a huge grey mobile phone close by in case any of the girls are in trouble but no one calls in the daylight, so there's little to do. There's no rush to find another score either and it's a relief to not worry about handling stolen goods, or pushing drugs to make ends meet. 

Having responsibilities and the routine of his night job seems to satiate the part of him that longs for some real stability, but knowing nothing is set in stone still allows him to feel the freedom he needs. Keeps the dream alive that there's something better on the horizon for him, and assures him that nothing will be holding him back when it finally comes into view. 

Trevor is restless though, getting into all kinds of trouble to feed his adrenaline habit, as well as the prohibited pharmaceutical ones. Michael promises they'll take a decent score together soon -just for the fun of it- but he only says it to buy himself more time to relax and enjoy being out of the cops crosshairs for a little longer. 

Despite the niggle of daytime boredom, he's glad of the downtime. It's something he could get used to, if only his lifestyle would come to allow for it. It's nice not to have to live looking over his shoulder or worrying where the next wad of cash is coming from. He feels an itch within him though, and he'll never admit it outloud but the monster inside -who feeds of the thrill of danger- is already starting to grow hungry. 

There's a voice in his head that complains about being so relaxed, makes him feel uncomfortable with working for someone other than himself, and urges him to get out and do something more - _dream big!_ Take as much as he can carry, but it's easy to ignore with things as comfortable as they are. Even when he's alone he doesn't struggle to shut out the bad thoughts and focus on how lucky he is to be free and able to relax in comfort and security. Knowing it's a luxury many men like him cannot afford. 

The only thing he could wish for is a little company. Since Trevor spends his days sleeping off the night before and the heat makes it so Lester barely leaves his cruddy basement apartment. There's no one else around that he wants to waste time with, and he hates feeling alone. 

He doesn't seem to fit with any the neighbours. The trailer park locals are all happy to settle for a life half lived, and the folks from uptown either look down their noses, or cross the street to avoid a man who has a reputation like his, and that of his friends. 

So in the lonely -but temporary- ease of life he finds himself killing time by knocking back beer after beer and watching movie after movie on the crappy portable TV. Resisting reading the sports pages of the county newspaper; knowing he'd only beat himself up about his past failures if he saw any of the successes of others. 

The lack of worry and pressure lets him feel like the young man in his mid-twenties he is, not like the drained elderly grump he felt himself turning into more and more. He wishes things could always be so simple and carefree, but he knows it's not going to last much longer. He feels the greed growing inside him a little more each day, as the call of the dream he's scared to reach for gets ever louder. 

There's a bubbling need within him to take more scores -and grab as much money as he can carry- to build himself a future where he's not constantly playing with fire. A life where he can sit on his ass all day and not worry about a single damn thing. Where he can finally put years of struggling behind him and find peace in success and security. 

Everything seems achievable from his place of comfort, but deep down he doesn't feel so at ease with things being calm. He's acutely aware that the good and peaceful times never seem to hang around long in his life, and it starts to feel unnatural the longer the calmness stays. Like he's a sitting duck during hunting season. As if he's just waiting for a new type of shit to hit a presently unseen fan and blow back in his face. Something is bound to go wrong, he knows it. It's the story of his life so far. 

He doesn't like they way his darker thoughts lurk at the back of his mind, or how his bigger worries are so easily glossed over in the slower pace of life. Anxieties over getting sloppy if he rests for too long; concerns for how soon is too soon to rush back into the fire - they're all effortlessly dropped by the way side for as long as his pockets are fat. It's easy to let himself feel normal, and he tells himself he likes it. 

Even though he knows the respite from trouble is only temporary, he realizes he functions better when he's got a focus - something real and present to worry about or plan for. He thrives under threat. He feels as if he's been put out to pasture without a prize for him to shoot for, and no a gun aimed at his head. 

All his worries get worse in the night, that's why he likes his job patrolling the street watching over the women. It gives him a sense of purpose, and a decent distraction from getting caught up in his head. Then once the dawn comes he finds himself taking home a girl each new day; killing a few hours in cooler temperatures, rolling around the sack. Silencing the troubles that lurk at the back of his mind, and clearing a path for the better thoughts that'll help him make it through the day. 

During the daylight though, he has little other option but to be alone. He sometimes thinks about making the trip into town to hit the rat-pit theatre, to watch the latest blockbuster. Knowing it'll provide a solid diversion for his attention, but he can't even stand the idea of sweating his balls off in the dark with strangers, so he stays away. Killing the most time alternating between the shade of the trailer and sunning himself on a plastic patio chair out front. Sometimes listening to music on a flashy new walkman and day-dreaming about how great life is going to be once he's got the money to buy himself a new one. 

It doesn't take much for him to being to climb the walls though. Getting more and more antsy for action and irritated by his environment. Annoyed with being surrounded by empty booze bottles, moulding TV dinners and take-out. Discarded tin foil and surfaces frosted with the ghostly remains of cocaine. He'd clean, but he can't be bothered. It's not his trailer, and with only ten minutes unsupervised Trevor would turn the place upside down again anyway. 

It's barely noon one humid Sunday, when he decides he has to get out and do something. Clear his head and get some air. He throws on some shorts and a t-shirt he got free with a pack of beer and hits the dusty trails through the fields in a pair of box-fresh sneakers. He's not intending to walk far, just a little constitutional to clear out the cobwebs and calm his demons. Find a little strength out in the wider world to suffer living in peace for a few days more. 

Meandering along by the edge of the tall grass lands, he picks up the train tracks and starts to follow along them blindly. As he wanders his eyes watch the dusty earth beneath his feet, bothered about how filthy his bright white sneakers are turning from it. 

His mind drifts away with ease though, running off into another land to play in some fantasy he's cooked up in his head. One he's based around a movie he'd watched one too many times - where he's the hero. Looking suave in a sharp suit, while defeating evil and saving the damsel in distress. He's so lost in his head and detached from the world around him that he barely hears the train approaching up ahead. 

Even though his current problems are few, his criminal instincts are still on high alert. The black and white movie in his head suddenly goes dark and all the colours of reality seep back in, as his well honed defences click into gear with the feeling something around him is wrong. 

He stops dead in his tracks, tuning into the sensation that tingles like electricity at the base of his spine. Scrunching up his eyes against the hazy sunshine, he looks up and ahead just in time to see something thrown from a train car. 

It's a black dufflebag. Tossed out into the adjacent fields; quickly followed by another and then a figure leaps out. One dressed in white. 

White and deep red. _Someone's hurt!_

Before he knows what he's doing he finds himself running straight to them. He can't even make out the identifying features of the figure ahead of him, but his soul already knows exactly who it is. 

He calls out questioningly, as she collapses near the last bag. Falling onto her back and staring up at the blue sky with her hand pinned to the bloodied patch on her side. 

A strangled cough comes back to him in reply as he rushes to her side, crouching down next to her. A whirlwind of panic building in his gut as he sees how much blood has stained her white lace dress. He asks her what happened, as he frantically checks the buckshot wound on her side. She can't catch her breath enough to reply in any detail, but she smiles at him with her eyes.

On the peripheral of his vision he notices the smaller of the black bags, the one she's propped up against. It's bursting at the seams! There's no clue what's inside, but by the look of her grip on the strap, _it's valuable._

He quickly takes off his shirt and pins it against her side, adding pressure to stop the bleeding. He asks again what the hell she's doing out there, back in the bumblefuck-nowhere town he's tied himself to. She gasps out just enough information to calm him. Explaining through the pain that she'd been double crossed by someone she was working with a few states away. Saying that she came looking for help from Lester and a safe place to hide -with people she could trust- until the trouble is off her tail. 

A part of him worries she's bringing heat to his front door -that she could cause the walls to crumble down on his haven- but he doesn't think on it too long. She's smart and knows how to cover her tracks - probably better than he does. 

The strange feeling of flattery he gets from knowing she considers his little backwater hellhole a 'safe place' -that she feels she can trust him too- chases all his concerns away, and lights a fire in his belly. 

The blood on her wound is already starting to become tacky, as he takes a few minutes to check the surrounding area to see if anyone saw her jump off the train, but they're in the middle of nowhere and she's in the clear. 

He helps her up carefully, gathers the bags and practically carries her -and them- back to the trailer, as some untapped part of himself erupts into a wave of compassion and tenderness. Grateful to have some excitement throw back into his life at last. 

Safely in his bedroom, he helps her take off her dress. Patches her up wound and cleans her face with a cool damp rag. She's in pain but she hides it from him scarily well, it's like she's afraid to let it show. 

Satisfied she's safe and comfortable, he leaves her to rest and heads out into the trailer park to score some antibiotics and weapons grade painkillers, from the local dealers. He gives them to her with the last of the orange juice in the fridge -that he was saving to go with his whiskey- and that night he makes them packet mac 'n cheese. Despite her injury she eats like she hasn't seen food in weeks. 

He sleeps besides her in bed, laying still. Almost too afraid to move in case he disturbs her or causes her more pain, but at some point during the night she curls up against him. Nuzzling his shoulder and encouraging him to hug her close. Giving him the tenderness craved with her so many nights ago. 

A light glows inside him - one he hasn't felt before in his life. He's not usually the caring or affectionate kind, but something about her tempts it out of him. Nourishing the part of him that he keeps hidden. The one that longs to have someone to fight for and care about. 

To his surprise and gratitude, she heals fast. Not just her broken skin but something inside of her seems different than he remembers. She's more familiar and warm, as if she knows she's safe with him and can relax in his company. It seems like she feels confident in that someone finally cares about her wellbeing, and it's enough for her guard to drop a little and let her true personality shine through. 

The summer days that once seemed to drag, go by so fast with her there. She becomes the light hearted spirit he communed with that cold night over a year earlier, and slowly they peel back each other's layers. Growing a little closer with each day; building trust and nurturing a delicate bond between them. A bond that is fed with an intense passion and an ever increasing fondness. 

He and Jack waste hot and hazy afternoons in his bedroom, or change it up by taking trips out to the lake where they cool off in the water. Other days they lose themselves taking long walks out to nowhere and back again; talking about nothing in particular. Sometimes sneaking into movie theatres to escape the heat of the sun - avoiding the ticket booth just for the thrill of it. 

They pay attention to the dramatic movies, sharing popcorn and soda in the steamy humidity - that he would have hated to suffer alone. Stealing kissing and trying to stay focused on the screen, and not each other. 

Yet when they sneak into a romantic comedy -that neither of them care for- it's the back row they take. Where Michael goes down on her and tries with all he's worth to make her scream out loud into the cavernous theatre. 

Sweaty sex in the flickering light of the silver screen fills him with something similar to the electric buzz of energy that he feels when he's knocking over a bank or forcing a truck off the road. He's excited by her -fulfilled in her company- and he finds himself feeling as high on life as he climbs while working a score. 

They fuck for hours on end, in as many places they can. First thing in the morning when it's still cool, or the middle of the day when it's too hot to breathe. They don't seem to care; there's a youthful lust between them that never stops demanding sustenance. Yet there seems to be more than just the physical between them; they both already feel there's something deeper but don't speak a word to clarify it, out of fear. 

They spend some time just laying together just talking about nothing in particular. Sharing stories and putting the world to rights. Nothing ever too personal, but they grow closer and more open each day. He feels connected to her, more so than he has with anyone before her - especially a woman. She gives him a strange feeling in his chest -one he can't put a name to- and it's something he's already beginning to wish would become a permanent fixture in there. 

It disappoints him some, how she remains a little distant with him. Closing off certain corners of her mind, and never directly revealing too much about the horrors of her past. Not that he pries. He's not exactly skilled at encouraging women to open up to him, but a deeper trust is forming and a delicate sapling of love can be felt strengthening and pushing its way up through the darkness inside them, out into the light they shine on one another.

He knows it's foolish to feel it so fast, but there's something that says maybe now is his chance to grab all the things the movies promised him. Like his foolish dreams he's held for years might really find purchase in reality with her besides him. He feels like his hopes and fantasies can expand over and over; dreaming of a dozen different future for himself and her. 

He loves being with her, he doesn't care if they're fucking wildly in a field or curled up on the bed talking about the most random of topics. He feels young and fulfilled. Comforted and alive around her; _he feels wanted_. He finds himself feeling so many things that he's longed to experience his whole life. 

He starts to believe that he finally matters to someone, for more than being just a cog in the score taking machine. Like someone cares about him -who he is- and not just about what he can do for them. He feels needed and as if she's looking to him for so much more than he can offer on the surface or in the physical. 

He starts to sense that he could really be something with her at his side. So he lets himself believe it's all going to work out right. That everything is happening for a reason, like the movies always taught him, right from back when he was a boy. 

As the weeks pass, she seems to evolve around him, the stoic professional he met the first night now seems so warm and loving. She makes him laugh, and she's goofy at times - it brings out the best in him. The fun side that has been ground down to dust with all the hardships he's faced in his twenty-odd years. She reminds him of who he can be when he's not worrying about things, and he slowly starts to like what he sees in the mirror again. 

She shows him a tenderness he's not experienced before. Yet she's still always a little guarded, like she's afraid of letting herself be truly vulnerable with him. He tries to tell himself he's the same way, but it's not true. He's open to her about everything, there's nothing he wouldn't tell her, but he doesn't ever push her for more than she's willing to offer him in return. He's too afraid he'll scare the one good thing in his life away if he squeezes too hard. 

He finds himself enchanted by the way she has about her; how she floats around like she doesn't have a care in the world. Most of all he loves to see how she switches from the care free girl he's come to know, into a focused professional he first met when their talking shop. Planning scores with precision that rivals that of Lester's, talking with a wealth of experience and knowledge of their dangerous world.

He admires how she goes out of her to do right by their hacker friend too. Getting him groceries and taking him to hospital appointments. Making sure he's eating right and taking his meds. Lester makes a fuss, and acts like he doesn't want her bothering him but Michael sees the gratitude in his friends eyes. She seems to relish in having someone to care for; knowing that she matters to someone too. It seems as if she's found herself a home in the people around her and their investment in her. 

Even her way with Trevor evolves. The initial animosity that had been in place on their first meeting switches effortlessly into an unspoken tolerance. His hostility turning into a kind of aggressive flirting. The type which would make most women uncomfortable, but oddly she doesn't bat an eye. It's as if she's known far worse than Trevor could ever hope to be.

Michael loves to watch the way she keeps his best friend on his toes, batting back his snide insults without missing a beat. Chuckling to himself each time he sees the way Trevor's face twists with frustration whenever her quips are too quick for him to keep up with. 

Amidst everything, she somehow manages to keep their trailer clean too. Delicately encouraging Michael to get off his ass to fix the roof and do the odd jobs he and Trevor have been ignoring for months. She never complains or makes any demands, which pleases and disturbs him in equal measure. Warns him that she's too good for him to ever keep hold of. 

Over the weeks they have together, they take a few scores. Small time gigs where they can go in under cover of darkness and get away clean. A quick cash injection and a fix of adrenaline to tide them over until they need something bigger. 

Mostly they just spend a long string of perfect nights in each other's company. Lazy summer nights, sitting out in the overgrown front yard on the cheap plastic patio furniture, drinking and talking with the radio playing the old rock and soul music that she loves to dance to. 

Trevor joins their little private parties sometimes, and Michael watches their strange banter. Trevor throws in the odd complain about her company but most of the time it seems as if he's just doing it to keep up appearances. He's too stubborn to ever admit he's grown to like her a little, even if he still can't stand her taking over his home. 

Any remaining animosity he feels goes by the wayside when the whiskey and beers begin flowing. Highs induced by weed and coke, causes the negativity to melt away, allowing for the three of them to get along better than ever. Sharing laughter and stories of one extreme to another. 

However, even when they're relaxed and intoxicated together, Michael can't help but notice the way Trevor's eyes constantly narrow each time he sees Jack make herself at home in his lap, or when they share a kiss or caress. He's not sure if it's jealousy or something else bubbling away inside his best friend, but he expects whatever it is will come to blow up between the three of them one day soon. 

Despite his concerns for lasting harmony between those that matter most to him, he can't believe how well his life has come together. Jack shows him the attention and love he's craved, and the acceptance he'd been searching for since high school. 

The way she holds onto him is delicate, she never adds pressure to his back. She doesn't even seem concerned about his loyalty to her when he goes off to organize the local working girls in the middle of the night. She seems to trust him, and he can't remember a time before when a woman did that. 

In return he gives her his fidelity, and shows her his love in the few ways he knows how. She never asks for more than he can give and he feels like bringing her the moon wouldn't quite be enough to show her his gratitude for loving him the way she does. 

Of course, they don't speak of the L word. Both still denying they are capable of feeling such a thing for each other. Yet he knows all the feelings he holds for her come as a package with being in love. The idea scares him, but as the days roll by he warms to it more and more.  
He feels like he's someone with her in his life. That his existence matters. He starts thinking about saving up to get an apartment with her, somewhere to finally call a real home. Where he can find the normality he's craved for so long. Making her a part of his dreams in place of the faceless woman he'd spent years imagining in his visions for the future. 

He recalls her mentioning wanting to live on a house boat, where they'd never have to worry about noisy neighbours or disapproving towns people. She'd spoken about a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere too, somewhere she could have animals and space to roam. All that's a long way off and he knows it, but already he doesn't really care where they end up. He just feels like he needs to make sure they're together whenever they go. 

It's hazy, but it's as if he can see his whole life ahead of him now. A normal life with safety and security. Something regular and familiar. The type of life he's held a hunger for since childhood. Yet can't picture having kids of his own -he doesn't want them- he's still too young and far too afraid of the signs that warn he'd only become like his own asshole father. 

Luckily she doesn't seem keen on kids either, but she mentions wanting a dog or two. A cat, and maybe a horse. He loses track or of her whimsical dreams, but each one she shares fills him with hope and a buzz that reminds him of his high school years. 

One late summer day he sees a sign someone's yard stating puppies are for sale, but he doesn't buy one. Knowing a life where they both spend weeks away from home, running from town to town, state to state, isn't the right place for that kind of responsibility. At least not until they're sure they can get out of the life for good, but the idea of such a commitment makes him fall further, and dream deeper about what might be for the two of them in the times ahead. 

As the summer heat slowly begins to fade into fresher autumnal air, he starts to acknowledge that he's falling for her far faster than the leaves are changing colour on the trees. He finds himself dreaming more and more of what could be between them in the future. Making plans for both of them now, and not just himself. 

He knows problems are coming on the horizon, moths are breeding in his pocket so they'll need a decent score soon - a big one. Maybe _the_ Big One. The score to end all scores that all stick up men joke about from time to time. Something major to put an early end to his criminal career and buy them all some long term security. A chance to get out of that lifestyle once and for all, to stop running in bad circles and making money in immoral ventures.

He wonders if it's foolish to believe they could ever escape a life of crime, as when she speaks of their future it seems like she's half joking. Like she doesn't even believe it's a real possibility for people like them to find a happily-ever-after. He ignores the notion that her veiled cynicism is founded in truth, and puts it down to her inner fears. Knowing that even though they feel so close - she's still got walls up. She's still keeping him at arm's length, even though the arm isn't locked at the elbow anymore. 

He senses that she's afraid to get carried away, expecting to get hurt or be left behind somewhere along the time. With all he's been through he understands her - he feels the same way too. He can't remember the last time he saw anyone he was related to, and the only people he considers to be friends are the town pimp, a cyber criminal and an unhinged drug addict. 

The knowledge of what it's like to feel the way she does pushes him to show her as best he can that he's not going to let her down. He's not going to leave her behind or fail her like other names in her past. He wants so much more than he's got, for himself and for her too. 

He's starting to think it might help to mention making solid plans to her, to tell her how he really feels for her. How suggesting they push Lester into finding the score of a lifetime, hoping it might to prove that he's serious about getting out - that he wants a real shot at a good life with her. That he's not going to let her slip through his fingers again with the call to other jobs or the deadly risks of their lifestyle. 

Something inside him aches to prove himself to her, to show her that she doesn't have to go through life alone, and that she can rely on him for all she'll ever need. He wants to be the one to rescue her from the torment of loneliness, just like the dashing heroes in his movies. 

But then in the small hours of the morning on a chilly, early September day, strangers arrive. 

A ferocious rumbling that sounds like the end of the world wakes them up. The bright beams of motorcycle headlights cut through their bedroom window, and the cracks and holes in the trailer walls. In a fluster, they stumble outside to find a pack of leather wearing men circling the trailer. 

Some older guy -grey and bearded, a little husky with a lot of patches on a worn leather jacket without sleeves- leads the pack. He asks for her help. Reminds her that she owes him for something, and she tries to make her excuses not to go but it's clear she's cornered and duty bound. 

Michael says he'll go with her -help out- but she won't let him. There's a sizable score on the table now for him, and she knows he needs it. So do Trevor and Lester, and the three Irish fruitcakes that have been hanging around for weeks, like sharks circling chummed waters. 

He senses that she's afraid to let things collapse for the people she comes to care so much for, or have her past mistakes impact on them, as there's a worry in her eyes that isn't selfish. She promises him she'll come back as soon as she can. Tells him to go ahead with the job if she's not back in time, and with reluctance he agrees. 

She packs her things quickly, a continual string of apologies falling from her mouth as she does so. The once all her things are stuffed into a bag she turns to him and kisses him deeply, like her life depends on it. Over and over until she's torn away by demanding voices. Hugging onto him tightly until the very last second she can, it's as if she's being pulled under by a riptide and is clinging to him for her life. 

With one last kiss -that lingers on his lips for days- she gets into a black van. The bikers don't stand on ceremony, firing up and rolling out quickly, leaving them only enough time for one last longing look to each other through passenger side window.

He can see the tears in her eyes, and something about the way his burn says she can see the same. His stomach turns with a twist of emotions that chills him to the core, as the convoy filters out of the trailer park. Leaving him standing alone, in a cloud of dust, staring until long after her tail lights disappear off the lot and into the distance. 

By himself again an ache beings inside his gut that feels cold and hot all at once. Fear mixing with regret and disappointment, creating a dark gyre within him that begins to consumes all the light he had felt inside with her next to him. 

He takes a deep breath, tells himself not to get crazy over her. That she'll be back; that everything'll be just fine. Reminds himself he's not the type to catch so many feelings for a girl. So he straightens his shoulders on a deep breath, and starts a mental countdown of the days. Convincing himself that she'll be back in time to go in on the score as they'd planed -that all is not lost for them- but then one week turns to two, then two to three. The job comes and goes, and she doesn't return. 

His dreams of being with her in a happy future all but fade away like the lush green grasses of summer. Frosting over a little more each day, as the nights draw in and daylight slowly becomes more scarce. Reminding him of the dark and barren disconnect he felt before the day he found her again by the train tracks. 

The warmth she left him with turns cold as the fall air, making him question everything he felt for her. Asking if it was even real, or mutual. He feels more alone than ever and fearing he'll turn reckless in response to his hurt and neediness, he becomes distant instead. Turning moody and short with those around him, building his walls back up to keep everything out. 

He doesn't mean to turn so dark, but the disappointment poisons him. He locks the positive and fun sides of himself back inside the shell of his hollowed out hopes, and hides the soft parts she'd uncovered back under the heavy blanket of his failures. 

His heart feels bruised from the return of loneliness and feelings of shame for ever letting himself believe there was something better in the world meant for him. That he could be something special to someone, and chase the dreams that he wanted more than all the riches he could steal. 

He wallows for a while, disappointment blending with anger, making him go back and forth on how he feels. Hour by hour it's different. Sometimes he's bitter for her leaving, other times he finds his bottom lip quivering with a wish that she's come back. Then he pulls himself up, jumps back to telling himself not to get emotional, not to be so torn up over a piece of ass - but his heart knows she was far more than that. 

He packs up her things into a garbage bag, tells himself to throw them out and draw a line under his time with her, but he can't do it. He wants to burn everything, as some kind of declaration that he hates her for leaving him, but he can't bring himself to light a match. 

There's a wound inside and it stings, but no matter how hard he tries he can't detach from the hope of seeing her again. So he stuffs the sack that contains her presence in his life into the bottom of his closet. Closing the door on it, reminding himself that it can be opened again. Keeping the last traces of her there safely - _'just in case'._ Or until he's ready to truly give up hope. 

Despite the darkness that's settled in on him, he finds it easy to fall back into his old ways. He's still young and free to take a different woman to bed every night if he chooses. He misses the familiarity of Jack though. He longs to feel connected to someone again. Wanting to be reminded that he's worth something beyond just his charm and knack for getting into a girls pants, or the need for money that bonds him to his colleagues and so-called friends. 

Then one night he and the crew are at the brand new strip club; the place that's rapidly becoming their favourite haunt. Partying in celebration of completing another sizeable score. Six of them; getting shitfaced drunk on free booze that comes as a perk from Michael being on the club's payroll. 

The prostitution ring and the strip club go hand in hand now, as a legitimate business to run the bookings out of and wash the money through. Despite Michael's depression and shortness with those around him in Jack's absence, he's impressed Earl enough to gain more responsibility and a bigger regular paycheque. Giving him something to anchor himself to between scores and letting himself forget on occasion that he's a stick-up man at heart. 

There's a new guy with them that night who had stepped in two weeks prior to take Jack's place in the score before. Some friend-of-a-friend of one of the Irish guys. Everyone on the crew has taken to him, but Michael is cautious. Their personalities clash and they spend more time giving each other side-eyed glares than bonding as the other do. 

He takes comfort in knowing that everyone on his crew is replaceable, and he hopes his regular earnings from the club will be enough to tide him over between scores. Long enough maybe for the Irish and their friend to start hurting for money and move on again someplace else. 

The confidence in believing they're all just a temporary annoyance, and the security of a regular job makes him feel as if life could come close to being decent again. Like the clouds are parting and letting the sunshine back into the empty dark hole Jack left exposed inside him. 

He's not sure if it's the booze, the money in his pocket, or the post-score buzz that puts a smile on his face, but something is getting through the clouds to heal the wound she left him with. He feels truly well for the first time in weeks, his shoulders feel lighter and his eyes shine brighter.  
He thinks back to the plans he had for the future before Jack showed up out of nowhere, and he starts to believe again that all his goals are achievable and laid out before him, just waiting to be reached. She showed him a foundation to build on, that had been snatched away, but somewhere inside a confidence in his ability to rebuild starts to blossom again. His far too familiar with things falling apart, building himself back up is a talent he's learned to nurture. 

Half way into a bottle of whiskey he starts to imagine the faceless woman again. The one who he's been picturing for so many years, the one he imagines being by his side when his fantasies finally become reality and a solid happy life is finally his. 

But that's the night he meets a new face that will change the course of his life forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I hope your feels survived that one. Oh, how I love to torture poor Mikey haha! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the update, you guys give this poor little author life! :o)


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